


So much snow

by My_Beating_Hart



Series: A Mahariel's Travels [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Discussion of weather, Fluff, Gen, M/M, More snow, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone reacts differently to the Northern Road when it's the middle of winter, there's a brief discussion about weather and Zevran gets shoved into a pile of snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So much snow

“Remember how I once said that I’d never seen snow before?” Theron sighed gloomily from under Leliana’s borrowed cloak. Zevran nodded from where he was huddled under a thick fur cloak. “Well, I’d give anything now to never see it again.” The ranger narrowed his eyes against the stinging gale that kept shifting and throwing snowflakes in his face, looking around the deserted stretch of road - the North Road. There were drifts of snow everywhere, and they had often had to stop and dig Bodhan’s cart out of ruts hidden underneath the whiteness.

Sten was leading the group for once, fully armoured and trudging on ahead stubbornly against the wayward breezes that came down from the coastland even further north. Theron could have sworn that his braids were frozen into a solid lump, and his armour was dusted with snow and half-melted ice.

“It’s not that bad.” Alistair called back to where the two elves were dragging their heels in the slush at the rear of the small procession, looking up at the overcast skies as more white flakes fell around them with an expression of childish delight. He and Leliana had actually had a snowball fight when the road had run far north enough to allow snow to lie on the ground, and some of his hair was still damp.

“Yes it is.” Theron shot back as swiftly as he would have fired an arrow.

"You can come up here with Sand and I?" Leliana offered from where she was perched in the back of Bodhan's cart with the dwarf's adopted son.

"Enchantment!" Sand agreed enthusiastically.

"We shall pass. There's not much room in there for all four of us." Zevran called up, despite his longing look at the wooden benches. "Walking will keep us warmer than sitting still."

“The cold is not to everyone’s tastes, Alistair.” Morrigan commented from where she strode along between Alistair and the elves, seemingly completely fine walking through a northern gale with just her usual robe on - if it could even be called that.

“Thank you, you beautiful witch.” Zevran smirked, ignoring the look she gave him. “What? She agrees with us for once.” He pointed out when he saw Theron rolling his eyes. “We need to seize those opportunities like a whore’s-” The former Crow was cut off with a yelp when Theron decided to shoulder-charge him from the side with surprising force for such a lithe man, into a large drift that covered half the road. Even Sten briefly stopped and looked back at the sight of the assassin struggling his way feet first out of the snow, emerging covered in it and swearing in just about every language he could - his knowledge turned out to be very expansive.

Theron snickered as he trotted on ahead of Zevran’s cursing and Leliana's glove-muffled laughter to walk with Morrigan for a little while, in the hopes he could always put her between himself and a certain rogue who killed for a living.

“I thank you for seizing that opportunity.” The witch told him, extending her warming magic so the Dalish elf wouldn’t get his ears frozen off before they made camp.

“I just wanted to see him covered in snow for once.”

 

The group decided to set up camp a little earlier than normal, given the time it would take to clear enough of the snow from the ground for all of the tents. While they were busy shovelling - or in Morrigan’s case, melting - snow away from a patch of ground not too far from the road, Theron paused to check he could still feel his fingers. Zevran was working at the other side of the growing clearing, sniffling audibly and inelegantly even though he'd dried himself off in the back of Bodhan's cart - naturally, he was refusing to talk to Theron for now. The elf was about to go back to shovelling when he noticed Dudain bounding over to him with something in his jaw. The elf frowned, wondering just what it was the mabari had found.

“Hey, boy, what’ve you got?” Theron said when Dudain reached him, carefully setting his shovel down while Leliana watched from where she was trying to break up a stubborn chunk of hard snow close by. He reached his hand out, expecting it to be nothing of consequence covered in dog saliva, and so he was startled to say the least when Dudain dropped something wrinkled and pink to the ground at his feet with a happy bark. Leliana stifled a noise of shock.

“Is that... a nug?” She asked, making Zevran and Alistair wander over to see for themselves.

“I think so.” The ex-templar replied, nudging the frozen lump with his foot. “It’s a long way from Orzammar.” He added, frowning in confusion.

"Leliana, did you perhaps smuggle that out of Orzammar?" Zevran teased, folding his arms over his chest at the chill.

"Of course not." The redhead replied, giving the poor creature a dismayed look.

“I’ve been wondering if Dudain needed a chew toy.” Theron admitted, now the shock was over picking his shovel up again and dismissing the frozen creature, along with Leliana's indignant protest. They reminded him so much of skinned rabbits, and like the other creatures native to the deeproads were to his elven eyes as crude and rough as the dwarves themselves. Perhaps they could go back to the Brecilian Forest one day soon, so he could see the elegant herds of halla again.

Later, as the sun began to dip over the horizon, the last tent was pitched and last meal was eaten. Leliana retired first for the night, after having quickly dug a small snow grave for the long-dead nug away from camp so Dudain hopefully wouldn’t decide it bring it with them in the morning. The cold had finally gotten to Alistair as well, so he went to his tent shivering. Morrigan, Sten, Theron and Zevran stayed up a little longer around the fire, discussing just where they should go next after Denerim; the Antivan seemed to thaw in front of the fire, gradually talking more to Theron. Perhaps he'd forgiven the snow, or perhaps he simply rediscovered that Theron was the best conversation partner against Sten and Morrigan.

 

“I miss the Antivan summers.” Zevran sighed as he brushed clinging snow from his boots, once he and Theron were alone in their tent for the night; Sten and Dudain were taking first watch for once. "The days were so hot, sometimes one had to sleep at midday or risk collapsing. The evenings were sultry, and perfect for wooing and killing both." The Dalish elf nodded in understanding as he set his bow down within grabbing distance of the bedroll.

“The Brecilian Forest rarely saw winter snow, with it being too far south. But I can't imagine someone actually growing so hot they collapsed, either.” Theron replied as he began to shrug his armour off at last with cold-clumsy fingers, relieved after a long day on the road. “I can't wait to go south again. It’s freezing out here.”

Zevran smirked to himself, as if at some private joke, as he watched Theron take his Dalish chestpiece off, exposing his bare chest to the cool air in the tent.

“Well, I know of a few ways we could warm ourselves up.” He suggested innocently, starting to take his own armour off at last in between rubbing his hands to try and warm his fingers up.

Theron snorted in amusement, knowing exactly what Zevran was getting at, but he kept tugging his boots off.

“Like putting our undershirts on for the night?” The black-haired elf asked, feigning ignorance as he turned his back to Zevran and tidied his armour up, in case they needed to dress in a hurry halfway through the night.

“Hm, not exactly.” The ex-Crow replied, not seeming to be as bothered about storing his own armour as he settled down on top of the bedroll. Theron soon joined him, and from the way he eagerly moved closer so their bodies were pressed together, the thinner elf truly did seem to be cold.

Zevran decided to be patient, to see how the other man would react if he didn’t make the first move for once, and settled down to hold Theron close after tugging the furs up over their legs, absently stroking up and down his back and shoulders or toying with his braids. The Dalish elf flinched away at the initial contact, given how cold his fingers were, but slowly got used to it.

“How long til we leave all this snow behind?” The other elf spoke up, and try as he might Zevran couldn’t find a single trace of suggestiveness in the question. He thought about it seriously, and shrugged.

“It depends on how much ground we cover every day, and seeing how we two tend to drag our heels on the road, we may well be prolonging our own suffering, no?” Zevran mused, lightly trailing a finger up the other elf’s spine.

Theron nodded in agreement, looking down at their mostly-bare bodies. Zevran’s skin seemed to glow gold in the light from the lantern, something that never failed to fascinate him, and the contrast to the solid black _vallaslin_ that curved around his cheek and eye was stunning. The Dalish elf looked away, not really wanting Zevran to comment on his staring. His own skin was far darker than that tanned gold, and indeed darker than many of the Dalish in his own clan that he had grown up around.

Of course, Zevran was looking his lover over as well, seeing the lean muscles of his arms and abdomen from years practicing with and wielding a bow, fingers skimming over the smooth skin of his shoulders, which so often were tensed out of habit nearly as much as a bowstring, but now were relaxed and soft. Carefully, not wanting to disrupt the unexpected calm that had fallen over them, the Antivan leaned forwards to gently capture those lips in a soft kiss that was quickly returned. Neither were demanding for once; there was no desperation underpinning tonight, no frantic energy as if the night would be their last. There was something almost hesitant about it, as if they were learning how the other felt all over again, how they fit together.

Theron was the first to pull away, resting his head against the Antivan’s shoulder with a shiver that might not have been entirely the cold’s fault.

“You know, I keep thinking about how glad I am that I finally took up that offer of a massage.” He mumbled as he felt Zevran stroking his braids, nestled against the other man’s warm body, their legs tangled together. Really, he was convinced that Zevran was fascinated by his hairstyle, even if he’d never admitted it yet.

The former Crow chuckled, and nodded.

“So am I.”

“I’m not surprised. You were probably sick of waiting.”

“I won’t lie, I was starting to wonder if my offer had been too forward.” Zevran shrugged, still gently running a hand up and down Theron’s back. The Dalish elf hummed in a tellingly noncommittal response, lifting his head up to quickly kiss Zevran on the lips.

“Well, now you know it wasn't _that_ presumptuous.” Theron added, slowly sitting up and shivering again as he reached for his pack, digging around briefly until he found his undershirt. The Antivan did his best to hide his frown of disappointment, but he sat up and caught one of the black-haired man’s wrists before he pulled the shirt on. Theron looked down at Zevran’s hand, and then raised an eyebrow at him promptingly.

“Remember what I said earlier about warming ourselves up?” The blond asked, leaning forwards to purr the question into Theron’s ear. The other elf felt chills running through him at the way Zevran rolled his r’s as the shirt fell from his hands. And Zevran had learnt quickly what it did to him. Theron let himself be gently pushed back onto the bedroll, eyes on the Antivan’s glowing skin and the outright mischievous gleam of victory in those golden brown eyes.

“Yes, but I might need a demonstration or two, if that's not too forward of me.” He replied swiftly, earning a chuckle from Zevran as he leaned up to roughly, hungrily kiss the other man, hands roaming already.

**Author's Note:**

> I realised just after writing this that there might not even be snow on the Northern Road. Oh well, artistic license...? Damn reverse climate.


End file.
